The Search
by BloodAndDiamonds
Summary: AU. When Emma Swan enters the Sheriff's Department one morning, she finds none other than Henry's father waiting for her. With Regina breathing down her neck at every turn, Emma must help him find who he is looking for and get him to leave Storybrooke before Henry finds out his true identity. But things are never really that simple.
1. The Theft

It's not the best of mornings when Emma Swan all but curses her way into the Sheriff's Department. The paper cup in her hand is leaking coffee through her fingers, the remnants of annoyance are still running through her mind after her encounter with the mayor, and it's hardly 8am and she's already set to investigate a break in at the newly-opened library.

So when Emma, her paper cup leaking and fingers subsequently blistering, fumbles with the _locked _door to the department and enters only to spot _him _sitting there in a chair, arms folded and looking for all the world like he belongs there, she's understandably pissed. And _terrified_.

* * *

"No, the front and back doors were locked." A pause as the brunette librarian waits for a reply. "I don't _know_, but someone's definitely been here." Belle balances the phone between her ear and her shoulder and sighs, moving forward as far the phone cord will allow with a handful of books to be placed on a shelf colourfully labelled _Geography_.

"You sure you didn't just take them home with you? No one checked them out?" The voice on the other end asks, and Belle bites her lip as she surveys the shelf. It needs to be painted, preferably in a shade of blue.

"I'm sure, Emma, my memory is _perfect_." She's certain to stress the last word; she'll not give anyone an excuse to throw her back in the mental ward, but her memory of everything is crystal clear, and she's not sure who could be listening to her side of the conversation. Belle knows all she'd need to do is even _think _of the possibility of her forgetting something and Regina would jump at the chance to send her back to the mental ward.

"So what, someone breaks in, steals a couple of history books and then locks the door behind them? Isobel, why would someone steal history books?" Automatically pushing down the urge to correct Emma –they all know her as Isobel here, and if she did correct them then she'd probably mention _the other place_ and Regina would have a _field day_- Belle shifts her footing and shrugs to no one.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, everyone here knows the history of Storybrooke, there's no reason to steal my books." Belle can't help the possessive tone in her voice as she speaks, but someone has stolen books under her care and she wants to know _why_. And the books are definitely missing; she'd left them on the front desk so she could place them on their proper, freshly painted, shelf in the morning. Belle hears Emma call a goodbye to Mary Margaret through the phone, and she gives up on trying to place the books on the shelf in favour of holding it properly. Emma sighs heavily into it, and Belle can't help but feel a little guilty at calling so early.

But she'd been worried; the wooden boards covering the windows had shown signs of being pulled off and then hastily pressed back into the pane, and with the books missing she'd needed to let _someone _know to make sure she wasn't actually going insane. It wouldn't surprise her; with her nature, twenty-eight years locked in an underground cell would have to have done _some _damage. Mostly, she had been bored _out _of her mind, left in that cell for days at a time with barely any human contact.

She'd been the ace up Regina's sleeve, alive and coherent to barter with if Regina needed something she could get only through Rumplestiltskin, and the Evil Queen had had no qualms about letting Belle know that when she was preparing to cast the curse. Belle wonders, briefly, of the possibility that this is a set up, designed to make her question her own sanity. Another sigh breaks Belle from her thoughts.

"I'll be down later to have a look. Try and find those books if you can." Belle smiles as the line goes dead and, after only a moment of contemplation, manages to put the phone down properly and without tangling the cord.

Yes, she'd been the ace up Regina's sleeve, but she was trying her best to adapt to this world of technology, and she'd be damned if a small break in would dampen her spirit _now_.

* * *

Almost the _moment _Emma had ended her conversation with Isobel, she'd reached her car and been surprised –perhaps she should get used to this- at the sight of the Mayor standing next to it and looking down at it in disdain.

"You going to make a habit out of ambushing me at my car?" Emma's glad that she's no longer on the phone to Isobel, and as Regina turns she, unsurprisingly, doesn't look amused at Emma's words.

"Miss Swan. I'm hardly ambushing you."

"Oh yeah? Why are you here?" Emma leans against the car, guarded, and keeps her eyes on Regina. The dark haired woman is all cold eyes and icy smiles, and she looks at Emma as though the answer should be obvious.

"There's another stranger in town-"

"You _are_ making a habit outta this. Listen, if you're going to corner me every time someone new waltzes in here-" Regina holds her hand up to cut Emma off. The blonde refrains from scowling and opens her mouth to continue, but Regina beats her to it.

"This stranger arrived yesterday afternoon, _Sheriff_, but didn't spend his night in either his car or the inn." The use of her position irks Emma, and it must show on her face for Regina's icy smile only seems to widen.

"How do you- never mind, I don't want to know. What the hell do you want me to do about this guy? Doesn't he have a right to pass through?" Emma's eyebrow rises sceptically to kiss her hairline, and though Regina answers, she doesn't even acknowledge the final question.

"I want you to find out who he is. And when you find out, you will tell _me_ who he is, and why he is here." And with a smile that's all too sugary and icy, Regina saunters off before Emma can even offer her a sarcastic retort. She's been doing that a lot lately; leaving with the last word and it grates on Emma's nerves and drives her up all the wrong walls. Emma throws her phone onto the passenger seat of her car and climbs in, grumbling under her breath.

"Don't think so, Madam Mayor."

* * *

Emma honestly doesn't expect to see _him_. He's sitting in a chair, clothed in dark jeans and a dark brown jacket, with his arms crossed and his elbows gently resting on the arms of the chair. He's not facing her when she enters, but she knows immediately who he is. The instinct to flee clashes with the urge to level the gun on her waist at him –protection only of course- and for the first time in months she feels completely torn. She hates it, wants to run to the apartment and pack up and _go_, but her pride wills her to stay.

She almost falters at the look of utter surprise and bewilderment on his face when he notices her, but by this point she's already noticed the _stolen _library books on the desk next to him and he gun is drawn and aimed. The safety's on, but he can't know that. He holds his hands up, palms facing her, and she takes a step back. There's no wedding ring on his hand, she notices distantly, but her focus switches to his face and Emma knows that, like her with him, she's the last person he'd expected to walk in through the door. She motions to the books.

"Adding thievery to our arsenal of skills now, are we?" Emma hates how she sounds like the wind has been knocked out of her, hates how _surprised _she is; she hates surprises for a reason, and this is one surprise that she really, really could do without. Eyeing the gun, he stands up slowly and, as he does so, Emma lowers the gun slightly and trains it on his knee.

"Emma?" She tightens her grip at the sound of his voice – there's no mistaking it now, he's _him_ and not just an unfortunate lookalike- and takes another step back.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?"


	2. Early Morning

Belle French is nothing if not organised. Yes, the first week of her stay with Rumplestiltskin had been nothing but a disaster, but that had only been for the first few days and purely because she'd had no idea of her boundaries. After the first week she'd been a truly organised little housekeeper, with schedules written up, and rooms that hadn't been entered in _years _hadfound themselves gleaming from her efforts in the weeks that had followed.

Standing at the front desk of the library on its first official day open, Belle laughs and almost cries in relief that her efforts have paid off. The library looks fantastic, all cleaned and airy and colourful –she'd made sure that there wouldn't be a speck of white _anywhere_- and the sun filters in quite happily through windows that are free from wooden boards, newspapers and grime.

But there were problems. Belle exhales deeply as she mulls over the problems that are hers alone to deal with, problems that the colourful library doesn't necessarily_ need_ to have resolved. She can only ascend the stairs up the clock tower to a certain point before a heavy wooden door prevents further ascension, the door to the basements is bolted shut and –from the feel of it- barred from the other side, and the only elevator to the basements is operated manually and no one will tell her how to use it. It's not ridiculously problematic, but she knows she could use the space.

Still, she's not stupid, and if the small, nearly imperceptible, shakes are anything to go by, Belle knows that there's something dangerous down below. Belle's aware of the curse, has been since the moment she was deposited into that cell, and briefly she wonders if the mayor has hidden an army of ogres in the basement.

The thought reminds her of home, and Belle smiles wistfully when she realises that her memories of _home _include spinning wheels and threads of gold, roses and quips and curtained windows. She's been careful in taking down the curtains in the library, but Belle's found that no matter what she's thinking of, the moment her eyes turn to a large window she's reminded of her times in the Dark Castle. She _misses _it; it may not have been the healthiest environment at first, with all the dark and the dust, but it was much more normal than this strange world she's in now.

But, perhaps more importantly, Belle misses the Dark Castle's only other inhabitant. She's yet to find Rumplestiltskin here in this world, although she's managed to narrow down her list of Storybrooke residents who she thinks he might be. Several of them she's never seen before, has simply heard their names by word-of-mouth, and she's reluctant to seek them out in case she's terribly wrong and ends up making a fool out of herself.

No, she thinks resignedly, she'll wait until she accidentally bumps into him or for him to seek her out. No doubt he'll be aware by now that she's alive and away from the hospital, because from what she knew of the Evil Queen during her imprisonment, it was that Regina liked to hold her victories over Rumplestiltskin, and Belle doesn't think the queen could resist letting him know that he'd let her down.

As Belle kick starts the computer that's been set up at the front desk, she wonders what on _earth _she'll say to Rumplestiltskin when she sees him. It would be ridiculously stupid if she were to walk up to him and demand answers, but Belle knows she won't be able to even _talk _to him properly without an explanation for his actions during their last minutes together. She knows she meant more to him than his power, but she wants to know _why _he stillchose his power over her.

Belle rips herself from her thoughts when a pretty dark haired woman comes to the desk with a few books to check out –It's Emma's roommate, if she can remember correctly- and halfway through their pleasant conversation Belle nearly cusses up a storm when she finally spots _him _on the other side of the street through the library's windows.

* * *

Emma Swan is furious.

Scratch that, she's _livid_. Her face is calm, albeit she looks slightly panicky, but inside she's raging up a storm of her own as she lowers her gun even more. Her eyes stay fixed on _his _however, and she refuses to tear her gaze from his until he damn well answers her.

"I swear, I had no idea you would be here." The words tumble from his mouth, and Emma wants to pull that trigger because she _knows _he's not lying. She wants to believe he is, but the surprise that had briefly crossed his features and the very fact that he's just nearly stumbled over his own words are proof to her that he isn't.

"I didn't ask you if you knew I would be here, I asked you _what _you were doing here."

"I'm looking for someone." Emma's heart sinks. Her mind spins with a dozen questions, the most important of which is how in the _hell _does he know about Henry? _Does _he know about Henry? She can't imagine he knows anyone in the secluded, off-the-map Storybrooke.

"Like I'm supposed to believe that, Ben? The whole of the States and you think the person you're looking for is _here_?" Emma's sceptical, rightfully so, but he scoffs at her all the same and watches as she puts her gun back in its holster.

"I don't think it, I know it." There's an edge of annoyed sarcasm to his voice, but Emma ignores him and moves past him to get to her desk. She can feel his eyes following her and, as it always used to do, it sends the hairs on the back of her neck on edge. She's not scared of him, oh no, but he's a horrible reminder of her past and she has no idea if he knows about Henry.

"Who you looking for?"

"I don't know his name. I was hoping the Sheriff could help me, I'd no idea _you _would be here." He sneers, and Emma doesn't like it one bit. She narrows her eyes at him.

"What happened to your wife?" It's a random question, but she doesn't want to go down the path of him asking for her help, because he knows it's futile and she knows she won't help.

"Divorced. Will you help me or not?" Emma watches him carefully, digs her hands into the pockets of her jeans and gives a scoff.

"No. Get out, and return those books to the library on your way out of town." Emma inwardly winces; God, she sounds like _Regina_.

"I'm not leaving until I've found who I'm looking for." Ben leans forwards, places his hands on the desk between them and Emma can see every line and blemish on his face. "Come on, Emma, help me out here." The words are spoken much more softly than anything else he's said, but it causes Emma to frown and then fix an unimpressed look on him.

"No, now get out. I won't tell you twice." Her voice doesn't quiver, her eyes remain cold and she remains unmoving, but he throws her a grin all the same.

"No. I like the look of this place, think I'll stay until I find who I'm looking for." Ben winks, then, and she inwardly frowns. Not because she finds it attractive or charming, but because she realises he still looks twenty-nine and, as far as she's aware, he should look thirty-nine and sport a lot more wrinkles than he currently does.

"You haven't aged a day." She's suspicious again, and Ben laughs at her outright and turns to leave. He looks over his shoulder, briefly, and calls to her just as he's out the door.

"No, I haven't." With those words hanging in the air, he's gone, and Emma relaxes completely and lowers herself into her chair. She watches the door click shut, absent-mindedly thinks on cleaning up the coffee that's all over the floor, and then she lets loose a dry chuckle at how cleaning coffee seems to be top of her priorities when _Ben Aden_ is in Storybrooke.

Oh, Regina's going to throw a _fit._

* * *

Baelfire's walking back from the docks when the kid confronts him. He's spent most of the time since leaving the Sheriff's department simply walking around Storybrooke in an attempt to overhear any talk on anyone he thinks might be his father, but so far almost every person he's been near has shut up and simply _stared _at him once they've become aware of his presence. The morsels of conversation he _has _managed to overhear have all been gossip about the new stranger in town –and he doesn't have to think twice to know it's him they're talking about- and the knowledge that strangers are scarce makes him almost glow with accomplishment. If he doesn't find his father here, then he knows he never will.

And Baelfire _knows _his papa is here, in this world. He knew it from the moment he woke up one morning and realised that he couldn't remember the last time he had looked like he'd aged. He knew it when he realised that, in this world, a man in his late forties shouldn't look like he was only in his late twenties. He'd promptly divorced his wife and immediately started to investigate, and nine years later and here he is. He feels the faint traces of magic in the air, easily detectable to the man who'd been the son of the Dark One, and the brief surge of anger towards his father becomes overridden by a want to go _home_.

He hadn't expected to be interrogated by the kid. At first he thinks the kid is heading to the end of the dock and moves to make sure their paths don't cross, but when it occurs to him that the kid should be in school he pauses, and the kid changes his path and heads straight towards him. Amused, and incredibly curious, Baelfire leans against the railings and waits for the kid to reach him.

The kid, bag slung over his shoulders, dark hair mussed from the wind, and slightly out of breath, stops in front of him and looks him up and down before he cocks his head slightly to the left.

"You're the new stranger in Storybrooke." It's a statement, not a question, and filled with all kinds of childish curiosity. Baelfire gives him a small grin.

"Yeah, I am. Shouldn't you be in school?" The kid shrugs.

"I got past Mary Margaret again. What's your name?" Baelfire gives him another smile before he answers that.

"Ben Aden." Once his false name has left his lips, Baelfire watches as the kid mulls it over. He looks like he's sorting through every name he knows to see if he can recognise it. After a few moments, the kid sighs in disappointment.

"There's nothing even _close _to that in the book."

"What was that?"

"Nothing important. I'm Henry." The kid pauses, shifts his bag, and then, squinting slightly, looks back up at him. "Why are you in Storybrooke?"

"I'm looking for someone, but I doubt you can help me, kid. Does your mom know you like to take little trips on your lunches?" At his question, Henry shrugs.

"Sometimes, but once she gets to her office she can't do anything about it. Who are you looking for?" Baelfire has to laugh at him for this; the boy reminds him of himself, and he fondly remembers when he was going through his own rebellious stage. Although he'd been close to his father, he remembers two or three incidents when he'd became too warm and had refused to work, knowing full well his papa couldn't physically do anything about it. He'd felt guilty after a week and had apologised profusely for days afterwards.

"You're a curious little kid, Henry, aren't you?"

"Unfortunately for my mom, yeah. Why won't you tell me who you're looking for? You're the second stranger I've met who won't tell me anything about why you're here." Baelfire gives him a grin at this, and ruffles his hair before he spins Henry around to face the town.

"Oh, I told you _why _I'm here, remember? You'd best get back to school, kid." Henry looks up at him as he starts to lead them both down the dock towards Storybrooke, and the kid looks both annoyed and deep in thought, and it's a look Baelfire has seen on his own face many times in the past decade or two.

"I tell you what, Henry. I'll make you deal; if you can guess who I'm looking for, then I will tell you who I really am, and why I am looking for them. We clear?" Henry throws him a smile; it's cautious and not entirely enthusiastic, but the kid looks satisfied and Baelfire feels it's okay to leave him on his own now and get back to business. Henry nods at him, still wary, and steps back a few paces before he turns on his heel and heads in the direction of his school.

Baelfire shakes his head and glances around, before he decides that the diner he'd spotted yesterday is probably the best place to overhear more gossip that _hopefully _isn't related to himself.

After all, he's got a papa to find, and he isn't leaving until he's found him.

* * *

**A/N: **Time for an arduous Authors Note. Baelfire is named Ben Aden because Ben was the closest to Bael I could think of apart from Bill –which wasn't working at all- and Aden because, from what I could find on a lot of baby-name sites, Aden means fire/little fire.

Thank you sooooo much to everyone who reviewed; it's very much appreciated!

This story will contain Rumbelle, Snowing, hints of Red Cricket, Emma/Baelfire will be _referred _to, and Swan Queen will be _implied_!

And that's the end of this AN!


	3. Identity

Emma's cornered the almost moment she enters the diner. She's barely reached a booth and sat down before Regina has taken a place opposite her, and Emma swallows a mouthful of hot chocolate in surprise. Her throat burns in protest, the scalding liquid feeling like it's scraping the skin from the back of her throat, and she raises an eyebrow in question as she recovers.

"Miss Swan. I've been looking for you all day." Amusement dances behind her eyes at Emma's unfortunate pain, and Emma wants to throw the liquid in the mug at her sparkling white coat. She refrains from doing so; there are people watching and she doesn't want to look petty.

"Yeah, well, you found me. Good job." Emma mockingly raises her mug at Regina, and smirks when the other woman cringes at her.

"We have a need to talk."

"I'm not listening." Emma smirks again at the other woman; Regina sits up so she's at her tallest and looks down at the blonde woman in disdain.

"I saw Henry talking to that stranger this afternoon." _That _grabs Emma's attention, and her eyes dart to Regina's in alarm so quickly that the older woman gives a triumphant smirk. "Ah, so now that I have you listening, did you manage to find out who he is?" Emma puts the mug down with a grim look on her face at Regina's question.

"Oh I found out who he is alright." Something about the way Emma says it attracts more than Regina's half-hearted curiosity, and she looks around subtly before fixing her eyes back on Emma.

"Well?"

"You don't want to know. I'll deal with this, okay?" Emma's direct tone puts Regina on edge, and the dark haired woman truly frowns. Emma raises an eyebrow; it's one of the first expressions that Emma's seen on the woman's face that isn't false. She mentally berates herself for admiring the shape of the woman's lips.

"Miss Swan, tell me who he is." Regina's tone is commanding and Emma bristles, but she knows that now is not the moment to verbally fight with her son's adoptive mother.

"Listen to me, Madam Mayor, and just make sure Henry doesn't go near him." Emma hates having to practically ask Regina this, but something in her face must convey the truth because a moment later a panic flits briefly across Regina's face. It's replaced immediately by cold indifference, and the older woman narrows her eyes at Emma.

"Miss Swan, I don't find your jokes amusing."

"I'm not joking." Emma retorts dryly, and it's convincing enough that Regina moves in just a little closer.

"And yet you led me to believe that he had no notion of Henry's existence." Regina speaks quietly, her voice little more than a hiss between her teeth.

"He doesn't have a clue. Said he was looking for someone, though."

"You're going to help him then, Miss Swan." At _that_, one of Emma's eyebrow rise to kiss her hairline, and she looks at the Mayor as though she's just announced a plan to run naked through the streets. Emma gives a sharp laugh.

"Oh no, I don't think so, Madam Mayor." Regina leans in even closer at that, and before she speaks she experiences a brief flash of horror when she realises that she can practically breathe in Emma's not too distasteful strawberry shampoo, and she forces herself to move back a centimetre or two.

"Listen to me, Miss Swan. You will find who this man is looking for, and then you will get him _out _of my town." She's pulling rank and not even attempting to hide the numerous threats that her tone implies, and she's infuriated at how Emma just looks at her with a raised eyebrow, as though Regina hasn't even spoken. But the flicker of agreement that crosses her features is enough of an answer for Regina, and she gracefully removes herself from the booth and moves to leave the diner.

She may not like Emma Swan, but at the end of the day, Regina's sure that neither of them is prepared to give up Henry to this stranger.

* * *

"So… who is he?" Emma stops all movement, her spoonful of cereal halfway to her mouth, and darts her eyes over to Mary Margaret. She's leaning on the other side of the counter and looking at Emma intently, and Emma motions for her to elaborate. "Oh you know who I'm talking about. The newest stranger. No one knows why August is really here; I was hoping you knew why this Ben has decided to visit our little town." Mary Margaret smiles cheerfully, but it starts to fade when Emma just keeps looking at her for a moment or two before she answers.

"He's looking for someone here before he's going to go on to the next town. That's all." Emma almost compliments herself on a job well done of avoiding giving anymore information to Mary Margaret, but the other woman looks at her with her eyes squinting slightly in contemplation.

"You know him, don't you?" Mary Margaret speaks the words in a tone that makes her sound as though she's only just realising it herself, and Emma sighs and puts her spoon carefully into her bowl.

"Yeah, I do. Met the guy ten years ago." Mary Margaret is smart, and she makes the connection immediately, but tactfully smiles and asks a question that doesn't concern Henry.

"How did you meet him?" At this Emma nearly snorts, and she spoons some more cereal into her mouth and chews in wonder before she answers.

"I broke into his house." Mary Margaret gives an audible gasp.

"Emma!"

"You asked. I was seventeen, I'd been out of the system just over a year and I needed the extra money. Got myself in the wrong crowd, that sort of thing. He caught me at the undercroft door." Emma gives a laugh as she says this; who in the hell has an _undercroft_ these days? "He came into the diner where I worked three days later and, well, you can guess the rest." Emma sounds more agitated and annoyed as she stops speaking, and Mary Margaret gives her a sympathetic smile that the younger woman shrugs off.

"What happened?"

"Bastard handed me over to the police when his wife came home and caught me in the living room, that's what. Only had to take one look at me before they knew I was part of a gang. Did some checks, and hauled my ass into juvenile prison." Emma grimaces at the same moment Mary Margaret does, and the older woman leans forward conspiringly. Her voice low, she asks the question she knows the answer to, if only to confirm it.

"Emma, is he Henry's father? Is _that _who he's looking for?" Emma snaps her head up and shakes her head.

"Oh no, he has no idea about Henry."

"Are you going to tell him?" Emma frowns at her roommate.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm being serious! He's Henry's father; don't you think he has a right to know Henry?" Emma shakes her head with refusal clear on her face, and she's hiding her anger at such a question so well that Mary Margaret is reminded momentarily of the Mayor.

"This guy's loaded, he'd have lawyers swooping in and I'd never see Henry again. Neither would Regina." Emma pushes her bowl away from her as she speaks and gets up, aware of Mary Margaret's eyes on her the whole time. She disapproves wholeheartedly, and Emma doesn't even need to look over at her to know she's frowning, but this is one subject on which Emma will not budge.

"Right, I'm off. I'd best start looking for the mystery Storybrooke resident that this guy's looking for." Emma grabs her coat and waves a goodbye to Mary Margaret, and then steps out the door.

And almost walks right into Ben Aden.

* * *

Belle wants to do nothing more than sit and sulk.

Because she's been waiting near the pawn shop for over an hour now, and she'd spotted Rumplestiltskin enter during the first fifteen minutes of her wait. He'd known she was there; he couldn't have known _who _she was, but Belle knows without a shadow of a doubt that the former imp had detected her watching him _and _the shop the moment he'd stepped onto the street.

But the problem is, Belle can't bring herself to go in. She can admit that she's scared; he might remember everything and throw her out, he might remember and be utterly bitter and thrash her with stinging words and, worst of all, he might not remember a single thing. The worst thing that could happen, she knows, is that he'd look at her for a few moments and then carry on treating her like a normal customer, with no clue as to who she is, and she'll end up leaving feeling like a fool.

It's eight in the morning, and people are already looking at her like she's an idiot, hiding around the corner of a building in a dark blue coat that she found packed away at the back of the library when she'd first entered the dusty building.

Belle gives a light sigh and closes her eyes for a moment, relishes the feel of the wind mussing up her curls, and then pulls her gloves tighter and steps out from the side of the building.

"Do the brave thing," She mutters quietly under her breath, "and bravery will follow." The words are lost to the wind as she walks to the pawnshop, and she barely registers the bell tinkling –as charming as it is- when she walks in. She shakes slightly, tugs her gloves off and pockets them, and marvels at the interior of the pawnshop.

A lot of the items decorating the shelves she remembers from the Dark Castle, and almost immediately she notices the two marionettes propped up next to each other. She'd avoided them in the castle; they'd been too detailed up close for her to feel comfortable handling them. It's darker than she'd expected, but with the grey skies outside and the dark wooden interior, she's not surprised. The sign is terribly misleading, she thinks offhandedly, and looks around carefully for the owner.

He's nowhere to be seen. Quietly she wanders around and looks carefully at the objects littering the shelves, remembering which ones she had avoided, which ones she had nearly broken, and only stops when she hears movement a little far off, on the other side of the curtain.

She smiles. He knows someone is in the shop, and if she'd been in a childish mood she's sure she'd have jumped through the curtain to surprise him, as reckless as it would be. But she's not feeling childish; she's slightly scared, nervous, and worried beyond belief, and she needs to hurry if she's to talk to him _and _have the library opened by nine. She inhales quietly, and then lightly knocks on an empty wooden shelf and hopes it's loud enough to get his attention.

"Hello? Mr. Gold?"

Something drops to the floor and smashes in the back room.


	4. The Pawn Shop

A/N: Ack, I'm sorry it's so late, I've been really busy lately! The idea for it being Baelfire who dropped something in the shop rather than Gold was TheDanishWriter's, I just wrote it! Thanks again for the idea :D

* * *

Emma cringes when she narrowly avoids walking into Ben Aden outside the apartment door. Her first instinct is to throw him _out _of the building, but then she remembers that she's going to _help him_. She walks off, knowing he'll follow, and she's content knowing she's walking far enough ahead that he can't see her face. This man has a way of getting under her skin, and she refuses to let him feel as though he has the upper hand in any of their conversations.

"Typical, I come looking for you and you find me. What do you want?"

"I came to see if I could persuade you to help me." Ben hurries his pace to catch up to her, and before he even registers it they've left the building.

"Yeah? I told you no." Emma raises her eyebrows at him and walks around her car to the driver's seat. Ben stops at the passenger seat and leans against the car.

"I'm very persistent. Will you help me?"

"Tell me who you're looking for, and then we'll talk about this." For a second, a tiny fraction of a second, Ben looks as though he's about to refuse, but instead he sighs and leans on her car.

"My pa-father." Emma narrows her eyes at the slip up, but then notices something else and frowns.

"I thought your father was dead? That's how you got all that money all those years ago. I can't find you a dead man."

"I lied."

"Wouldn't be the first time. Who's really your old man, then?" Emma crosses her arms and keeps her eyes locked with his, and ignores the urge to brush her stray curls from her face. Ben sighs.

"I don't know."

"How the hell did you end up in Storybrooke if you don't know?" Emma's beyond incredulous now, and wonders if perhaps Ben really _does _know about Henry.

"I just _know_. There's nowhere else for him to _be_, he has to be here."

"Not good enough."

"You find me my papa, and I'll leave." Emma shakes her head at him; he's even more persistent than she remembers.

"How do I know that? What if your dad wants you to stay?" Ben gives her a wry grin as she speaks, and inclines his head.

"I won't. I said to you before, if you help me find him, I'll leave. He didn't break deals and neither will I." There's a small hint of resentment in his tone as he speaks, and Emma barely registers it as she focuses in on the exact meaning of his words. She almost chokes when she understands.

"_What?_"

* * *

Belle feels kind of sorry for Rumplestiltskin. Though, in a slightly sadistic kind of way, she's enjoying his terror and general awkwardness. He'd sent her away humiliated, after all, the least he can do is quiver before her in utter confusion. When he'd first seen her, after coming out of the back room, he'd almost dropped his cane in disbelief. He'd grasped her arms, turned her around to examine her properly, and when he'd finally concluded that she was real, had realised that there was every possibility that she had no idea who he was. He'd quickly escaped to make tea. It confirmed her suspicions that he remembered everything.

Now, he stands on the other side of the counter, hands shaking almost imperceptibly, as he puts the tray of tea and biscuits down on the countertop and allows her to make her own. Instinctively, she pulls two of the teacups towards her and starts to make them _both _tea, and it doesn't occur to her that it looks a bit suspicious if she looks like she can't remember anything, but can still make his tea perfectly.

She wants to keep him squirming, if only for an hour or two. He takes his tea with a dollop of sugar and surprise, and he's still looking at her as though he's not too sure that she really exists. He speaks after a sip or two of his tea.

"What brings you to my humble abode then, dearie?" As he speaks, Belle stirs her tea in thought and tries to make herself look as unknowing as possible. It works, and she vaguely notices as he swallows thickly in apprehension. She leans forward slightly and locks her eyes with his.

"Town rumours. Decided to take a look at the beast myself; they all think you're some kind of spawn of Satan." She uses the word 'beast' on purpose, and she doesn't miss the flicker of annoyance that passes through his eyes before he grimaces.

"And what did you find, dearie?" Belle rests her head in the palm of her hand at the question, and gives him a familiar smile. He practically drinks it up.

"Oh, he's not as bad as I remember." It slips out before she can really control it, and she can _see _his thoughts racing ten to the dozen as he tries to sift through the fake memories, to try to spot if she ever did exist in the fake memories. Before he can come to an answer, she speaks up again. "However, I also need your help." It's not a _lie_, per se, but she's not going to come out and admit that she couldn't go another day without confronting him. A flicker of disappointment flits through his eyes.

"I see. Can't imagine there'd be another reason for you to be here. What do you need?" His words are forced out, strained, as though he's struggling to keep the pleasant smile, and it's an expression Belle remembers very well. She doesn't miss the lack of 'dearie', either.

"Somewhere to stay. I refuse to live with my father, and I can't go another minute living with the nuns." Belle leans against the counter, and she must redeem herself somewhat with her words because Mr. Gold answers quickly with a small hint of pride in his voice.

"And what, dearie, is the problem with our dear old nuns?" Belle shrugs and takes a sip of her tea.

"Let's just say I don't get along with the mother superior."

"And your father?"

"He locked me in a tower; take a guess at the problem there." The words are out before she registers what her brain is processing, and Mr. Gold almost drops his cup at her words. She quickly focuses on a different topic, and notices the debris in the corner of the shop. "Did you brings the broken pieces of whatever you dropped out here? Why wouldn't you keep it in the back room?" She forces genuine curiosity into her voice, and although it sounds fake, it distracts him momentarily as his eyebrows lower in the direction of the fragments.

"I never dropped anything, dearie. You did." Belle turns to look at him, keeping her weight on the counter, and shakes her head.

"I didn't go near that corner. You dropped something after I called out for you."

"Dearie, I'm not scared quite as easily as that. I heard the bell ring." Mr. Gold pauses for a moment, and at that moment he looks so similar to Rumplestiltskin that Belle almost laughs. "I heard it three times." Belle inclines her head to the left slightly, and frowns.

"If we didn't drop anything, who did?"

* * *

Baelfire can't breathe.

He's close to hyperventilating, and he wants to punch himself for it, because he'd _prepared _down to the finest detail exactly how he'd react when he'd see his father. He wants to punch himself, because he'd only _heard _his father's voice after that pretty brunette had entered the shop, and once he'd recognised it, he'd fled.

Baelfire gives a sharp laugh at himself as he sits at a table in Granny's; he is, in some aspects, exactly the same as his father. Just as cowardly once it comes to emotions. After all these years in a world without magic, where he hadn't aged a day for so many long years, until twenty eight years ago when he'd finally grown out of a teenagers body, he'd turned partially bitter and partially cowardly, and he simply doesn't know what to _do_.

He feels like that fourteen year old boy again, lost in a world that's wholly unfamiliar and wanting nothing more than to cling to his papa and never let go. He wants to apologise for being pushy, apologise for ever listening to the Blue Fairy, but he's not sure how his papa would even _take _that. For all Bae knows, his father could shove him into another portal, and God he doesn't want to end up in some alternate universe or _another _land.

Even he knows that's unlikely, yet he's still scared. He's even more unsettled at the fact that he'd ran into the Blue Fairy after leaving the shop, and although he'd given her a sarcastic wave at the time, the look on her face had made him certain that he'd be seeing her again. He's slightly resentful towards her for giving him the bean in the first place.

Baelfire looks up when the door to Granny's opens, half-terrified that it's his papa. It's only the young kid from before, and Baelfire remembers his name almost instantly. The kid's infectious smile and innocent demeanour sets him apart from all the other children in this town, who carry a look that Baelfire remembers all too well. They look as though they're trapped in a daze and don't understand _why _something seems off. He'd been trapped in something similar until he caught his reflection and realised that he'd been sucked through the portal. He'd known he was trapped in a land without magic, but for the life of him he hadn't been able to initially remember why that had been.

Bae makes the decision to ask the kid for his help at the same moment that Henry slides into the seat opposite him with a grin.


	5. Coffee

A/N: Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry for how late this update is! I've been so busy, and my laptop has broken, and ack, they're still not good enough excuses. So I'm sorry this is late, and I apologise for any mistakes: I had to write this on my iPad notes, and it likes to correct words even when I've spelt them correctly! Enjoy!

* * *

Baelfire watches Henry carefully as the young boy sits before him and scrutinises him, his eyes locked firmly on the older man's face. They sit silently for a moment, Henry looking as though he's in the middle of solving a complex puzzle, before he's broken from his thoughts at the appearance of Ruby with a mug of hot chocolate.

Henry mutters a thanks to the young woman and turns back to Baelfire with a small smile on his face.

"Hi Ben. Did you find who you were looking for?" Baelfire wants to cringe when he is asked the question, but Henry either doesn't notice or ignores it in favour of an answer. At the expectant look on the boy's face, Baelfire casts his glum look to the cold coffee before him.

"I suppose you could say I did."

"So why are you sitting here in Granny's if you found them?" Henry's question, no doubt intending to make him seem concerned, is entirely at odds with his demeanour. He looks as though he's onto a revelation and is bursting with eagerness to ask something completely different.

"Let's just say I got a little scared." They sit in silence for a few minutes after that, Henry fidgeting from his urge to speak and Baelfire silently berating himself for running the way he did. He's just glad his papa never actually saw him. He locks eyes with Henry once again, and raises his eyebrows at the young boy. He's looking at Baelfire expectantly, waiting for him to ask. At the motion, Henry blurts out,

"You're from the other world, aren't you?"

Baelfire splutters, grips his coffee cup tightly and wonders _how in the hell of the seven kingdoms does this boy know that? _Henry takes his spluttering as a yes.

"I knew it! I couldn't find you anywhere in the book, but if you're here, in Storybrooke, looking for someone other than Emma, then you have to be from there. How did you escape the curse?" The boy is all eager questions, but Baelfire's stomach sinks at the mention of a curse. What had happened after he had left?

"Whoa, please, slow down. I never escaped anything, I left through a vortex." As he speaks, Henry's face starts to fall.

"Did the Evil Queen send you through? Did you do something to her?" Henry looks desperate, but Baelfire can only shake his head in confusion.

"Evil Queen?"

"How can you _not_ know? When did you leave?" Henry sits on the edge of his seat, watching as Baelfire thinks. He can't remember the exact year, but he can remember the events very well.

"Not too long after the Ogre War."

"Which one?"

"The first?" Baelfire is shocked that he's asked the question. How many were there? Henry sits back in his seat, deflated and defeated.

"Oh that must have been ages before the curse!" Henry groans a little loudly, and then looks around suspiciously to check no one was watching. After a beat, he sits up again. "How old are you?"

"Old enough." Baelfire answers with a smile. The young boy lightens up a bit, before his eyes dart to the door.

"So you don't have any idea what happened? They're all here because the Evil Queen cast a curse on every-" the boy shuts up as though switched off, and the fact that this coincides with the sound of the door to Granny's opening causes Baelfire to turn slightly to look at the door.

Judging by look on the boy's face, and the aura of power and superiority exuded by this woman, Baelfire can take a safe guess and assume that this is the Evil Queen that Henry is talking about.

* * *

It's nine in the evening when the door to the apartment sounds like it's about to be knocked down. A moment or two later, and Emma decides that it sounds more like someone is urgently banging on the door in an attempt to get in.

Torn between opening the door and wanting to ignore it and crash, Emma groans and tugs the door open to stop the dreadful banging. She's snapped out of her tired daze at the sight of the person on the other side.

"_Regina_?" The woman in question has such an unfamiliar look on her face that Emma can't decide if she's furious or terrified. Regina storms past her, her expensive coat flapping around her legs, and wheels around to face Emma as the blonde closes the door.

"Miss Swan, you told me, twice now, that he had no notion that he was Henry's father." It takes Emma's tired brain a moment to figure out who Regina is talking about, but when it registers she crosses her arms defensively. Both women are raring for an argument, it seems.

"Well Madam Mayor, he doesn't. So quit your worrying." Emma brushes past Regina to the kitchen, flipping the switch on Mary Margaret's coffee machine. If she's going to argue with the mayor, may as well have something to distract her. Emma motions to the machine with her head, and almost smirks when Regina grudgingly nods her head before she speaks.

"He was sitting with Henry in the diner this afternoon." Regina watches Emma grab two mugs as she speaks, and Emma wonders if the other woman assumes she's going to poison her. "I told him to stay away from strangers." Regina sounds incredibly annoyed, but Emma's too busy making the drinks to relish the look on Regina's face.

"Good luck with that. He's a kid. You tell him not to do something, and he'll go right ahead and do it anyway."

"Miss Swan, I don't think you realise how close this man is to discovering who Henry is. And Henry is a smart child, he will figure it out for himself." Emma pauses briefly as she switches the machine off, a slight pang of terror hitting her. If she's this scared after only realising the possible outcome now, she can't imagine how Regina feels. If she feels at all. But Emma knows genuine fear, and unhappily admits that Regina is indeed fearing what will happen if Henry finds out. Or worse, Ben finds out.

"Then it's simple; make sure Henry never tells Ben that he's adopted. If He doesn't know I gave birth to Henry, he can't make the assumption that he's the father." It's a ridiculous notion, Emma knows, since Henry seems set on making sure everyone knows that Emma is his real mom. Judging by the look on Regina's face, she knows it's a bad idea too. Emma hands her a mug of coffee and sighs.

"Then I don't know. He won't listen to me, and he won't listen to you. So what do we do?"

"Do you know who he is searching for?" Regina inspects the rim of her mug disdainfully before she sips at it, slightly surprised that Emma has managed to make a decent cup of coffee.

"He's looking for his father. Looks like the guy is Gold." Regina stiffens at this, and the movement is noticeable even to a distracted Emma. "He made a deal with me, once he's said to Gold what he needs to, he'll be gone."

And Emma is forcing herself to believe this, Regina realises. But she knows better, knows now that if this man really is Rumpelstiltskin's son, then he is unlikely to be able to leave Storybrooke. If Emma truly can't leave, then he most certainly can't.

"Miss Swan, you and I are both aware that if this man is anything like his father, then he is not going to leave any time soon." Emma has to nod in agreement, though she can't help but notice how stilted and distracted Regina sounds. She takes a mouthful of her coffee, and then swallows it down too quickly in alarm when an idea hits her.

It forms quickly in Emma's mind and, aware that Regina is eyeing her as though she were a flea infested animal on her pristine doorstep, Emma attempts to form words to voice it. Her mind doesn't seem to want her to speak, however, and she feels as though she's pulling teeth.

"We could..." Emma trails off, wincing, but she's got Regina's attention now, so no going back. "We could both tell Henry, together, to stay away from Ben, and then appear to be-" Emma cuts herself off, feeling ridiculous for even thinking of the idea. Regina, however, appears to have caught on, although the look on her face would make it seem as though Emma had proposed they get married.

"Absolutely not, Miss Swan. I am having enough trouble attempting to repair my relationship with my son as it is, without your-"

"I'm not saying we should move in together! All I'm saying is that he does love you Regina, and I know seeing us two at each others throats is affecting him. If we..." Emma cringes, "appear to be getting along more that we have done, it will distract him enough to move his focus from Ben. He'll want to know why we're being nice." And although Emma would rather leave than get along with Regina, she knows she needs to divert Henry's attention away from Ben Aden.

And besides, the suggestion alone is worth it for the look on Regina's face as she lowers the mug of coffee. Emma could be murdered right now by the woman and it would be worth it. Regina looks positively torn, her lips turned down in distaste at the suggestion but her eyes reluctantly resigned, knowing that until they think of something better, this is the best suggestion yet. Grimly, Regina gives a curt nod to Emma, who nearly laughs at the fact that Regina has agreed to this.

They stand in silence for a moment, neither willing to talk, before Emma decides to break it by loudly placing her mug on the counter and leaning over towards Regina.

"So, how should we start then?


End file.
